


Just Another Cigarette

by hey_cass_butt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: End!verse, Late 2013, M/M, Porn, Smut, mild drug abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 07:37:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey_cass_butt/pseuds/hey_cass_butt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the end, baby and Castiel isn't doing so well.<br/>It's not even the drugs or the alcohol that was really driving him insane, it was Dean. He should have hated him for all of this, hated him for dragging him head first into the apocalypse, hated him for making him fall and leave Heaven and his family. But instead, Dean was more like a drug, the strongest drug and the craving for him was unquenchable, despite all the pain he had caused him, despite the fact Castiel should have hated him, even did in some ways, Castiel still loved him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Cigarette

Castiel took a long drag from the cigarette and relaxed back into his seat. Nicotine was better than Marijuana late at night, less of a kick and less sickly. They were kind of his lullaby now; he couldn’t sleep without one, because, of course, he slept now.  
The old shack he lived in was pretty small, but he needn’t anything else, as long as he had enough room to drown in alcohol and sleep with women, he would do okay. Of course, it wasn’t just women Castiel slept with, well at least it hadn’t been. His first had actually been Dean, but that was a few years ago now, before he became fully human. They had done it plenty of times since, but after what happened to Sam, Dean drifted, unsurprisingly and the only sex he wanted was angry sex and Castiel wasn’t going to put up with that shit anymore.  
That made him sadder than a lot of things did. The total change in Dean, the man he dragged from the pits of hell, the man he stitched back together cell by cell, the man whose soul had to be cleaned with a part of Castiel’s grace itself. Castiel wondered if it was even the same soul anymore, it certainly wasn’t the same man. 

He hardly jumped when one loud single knock came from the door.  
“Just fucking come in, Dean.” Castiel shouted, leaning his head back again and closing his eyes.  
“Jesus, Cas, how do you even fuckin’ breath in here?” Dean muttered, coughing up the smoke filling his lungs.  
“Whiskey’s over there if that’s what you’re looking for.” Cas murmured, using his foot to point over to the counter.  
“I’m actually good.” Dean said, shaking the bottle of beer in his hand.  
“What’d you want then?” Castiel took another long drag of the cigarette, relaxing further into the seat, putting his feet up onto the counter.  
“Came to check you were okay. The Crotes came close today.” Dean said, leaning back onto the counter.  
“Oh!” Castiel blurted a laugh, “You came to see if I turned into a Croatoan. Well, that does explain the gun stuffed in your trousers and not the sexy kind of gun either.”  
“Cas you know how it is. We gotta take this seriously; I’d want you to do the same to me.”  
“You’d want me to shoot you?” Castiel said, laughing humourlessly, leaning up to look at the man. “Dean, if there was a circumstance that it did happen to you, I don’t think I could shoot you. It’s good to see a good old buddy like you feels the same.”  
Dean looked straight into Castiel’s eyes, it looked like he was about to explode, his lips trembling in anger, he was gripping the counter so tight the whites of his knuckles were showing. Castiel was ready for it, used to it by now; he relaxed into his chair again and held the cigarette between smirking lips. But Dean took him by surprise this time, he was shaking with anger, but then he just sagged, slid down the counter and sat on the floor, his head in his hands. If Castiel hadn’t known any better, he would say he was crying, which admittedly, made Castiel feel awful.  
He wasn’t crying though, he lifted his head up and just sighed, his eyes darted to Castiel’s quickly.  
“Do you think this is the kinda guy I want to be, Cas? And what makes it fuckin’ worse is that all this is my fault. If I’d just said yes to Michael…” Dean blurted out, his expression a mixture of rage and pure sadness.  
“You’re doing your best. S’all you can do, Dean.”  
“Maybe Sam’d still be here if I…” Dean sighed again, and swallowed thickly.  
“Dean. Stop. There’s nothing you could do, you did your best, and you can’t do more than that.” Castiel murmured, blowing out the smoke.  
Dean sighed, and that was it, Castiel could see it. No more ‘feeling talk’, his face was stone and cold once more.  
“Got anymore o’ those?” Dean grunted, as he heaved himself off the floor.  
“Bad for you, Deanie.” Castiel grinned, clutching the box of cigarettes in his hand, “you sure you want one?”  
“You turned into a real dick, you know that?” Dean said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.  
“You too.” Castiel held out the box to Dean, and he pulled out two of them, sticking one of them in his pocket. “Hey, I didn’t say more than one; we’re running out of ‘em you know.”  
“Yeah, but you also didn’t say not to take more than one.” Dean smirked, as he lit the cigarette.

If Castiel let himself his mind would drift, eyes would skirt along Dean’s body, he would watch those lips hold the cigarette in his mouth, and watch at the way they pouted as he blew out the smoke. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on, the same way it turned him 4 years ago, the same way it turned him on every single aching day.  
It wasn’t even that Dean just turned him on; it was more than that he knew it but he wouldn’t admit it. He did, 4 years ago he admitted those feelings, they both did, but they got him nowhere, if anything they just brought him more pain. So, it was best to keep his mouth shut; it was best just to imagine him with Dean rather than actually pursuing it. Some days were harder than others, for instance, if Castiel hadn’t been holding himself back, no doubt he would be smothering Dean’s body with desperate kisses because if he was honest with himself, he may have been different, a harder, colder Dean but he was still Dean. And Castiel could barely piece into words how much he loved Dean, no matter what he did.  
He hated Dean, hated him to the core because this was his fault, but he loved Dean so much because despite all his faults, Castiel knew there was still a good man beneath it all. Like at that moment before, sometimes he’d witness those moments where his exterior couldn’t hold it anymore and he’d collapse in on himself, still a man filled with emotion and feelings. And Castiel loved that man. That was the man Castiel fell for, in both senses of the word. 

He sucked in the smoke from the cigarette, which was running out now he could feel the heat on his fingers, he sucked it in and let his shoulders relax, closed his eyes, did his best to rid himself of the urge to stride right over to Dean and simply straddle him on the bed.  
“You sleeping over tonight or somethin’?” Castiel smirked, watching Dean who was still leaning against the counter.  
Dean raised his eyebrows slightly and returned the smirk, “do you want me to?”  
No, he wasn’t going through this again, after all the man came in with a shotgun ready to shoot him. He wasn’t going to be fucked by Dean and then not acknowledged again for weeks, there was only so much of that crap Castiel could take, and he had his fill.  
“Could you lock the door when you leave?” Castiel murmured, closing his eyes again leaning his head back, having put out the cigarette against the fabric of the seat and dropping the cigarette-butt to the floor.  
“And people call me cold.” Dean said, but he didn’t move. He didn’t walk out and lock the door behind him like Castiel asked. What he did didn’t surprise Castiel and it didn’t please him, but it also didn’t displease him. He didn’t want it, but he craved it.  
In two short strides Dean was standing over him, all signs of the smirk gone, his face was serious, it looked almost like he’d been craving this the same amount Castiel had.  
“Dean.” Castiel said, a pitiful attempt at protesting, but it hitched in his throat when Dean’s lips started smothering his.  
Surprisingly soft fingers knotted through Castiel’s hair, pulling lightly. Castiel should have stopped, pushed Dean away and told him not to try this again, but fuck, when was the last time he felt this good? He craved Dean, he craved him more than the nicotine or the marijuana, he craved him more than the alcohol. Dean was Castiel’s worst drug, the most dangerous and the most painful, but the most satisfying.  
“Dean.” Castiel said again into Dean’s lips, but it was a moan this time, a plead for more.  
It felt so good for his lips to be against Dean’s, tongue licking inside Dean’s mouth, the taste of him so familiar. Dean’s hand slides down from Castiel’s hair, falls to his chest and practiced fingers begin to unbutton his shirt. Fingertips scraping softly against the skin of his chest, palm rolling over his nipple and he moans again, tasting Dean’s lips and Dean’s tongue, feeling how his mouth trembles slightly as he hums in reply.  
Dean unbuttons his shirt entirely, revealing the entirety of Castiel’s chest and slowly Dean’s lips parted from Castiel’s, as they moved to the side of his mouth, just below his chin, his collar bone where he bites gently against the bone there, which makes Castiel moan again. Lips trailed down to his nipple, making Castiel moan once again hands falling to the back of Dean’s head, fingers clutching the hair there, pulling with enough force to make Dean groan into Castiel’s skin.  
“Cas.” Dean moans, but it’s more like a growl, and the sound raises goosebumps along Castiel’s skin.  
This wasn’t like those other times, where it was rushed and hard and rough, this was soft, the way Dean had been with him all those years ago. Castiel didn’t know why he was being like this now, but he had no complaints, but then again, Castiel never complained when it came to having sex with Dean, no matter how rough.  
Castiel’s hands moved to the collar of Dean’s t-shirt, pulling on the fabric and Dean lets him pull the t-shirt over his head and throw it to the floor. Castiel lets his hands explore the dips and ridges of Dean’s back, how it felt when the muscles above his shoulder blades roll beneath his hands, he’s digging blunt fingernails there, head leaning back, feeling Dean’s lips and tongue and teeth against his body, how they suck his skin in just the right places. And fuck, he missed those lips against his skin.  
With a grunt Dean pulls Castiel upright and off the chair, kiss-swollen lips meet Castiel’s once again and while he kisses, Dean is guiding them to the bed. Dean’s hand falls to Castiel’s crotch, which makes the breath hitch in his throat, as he palms his quickly hardening cock through thin fabric.  
“Fuck.” Castiel moans into Dean’s mouth and Dean smirks as he repeats the action onto his cock again.  
Castiel feels the bed against the back of his calves, and Dean pushes him down onto it, lips never separating. Castiel’s head falls onto the pillow, Dean’s lips pushing him harder onto it.  
Dean pulls away and moves his hands, fingertips gently gliding along Castiel’s skin, onto the button of his trousers. Dean pulls them down along with his boxer briefs, and Castiel pushes them off with his feet.  
“Missed this.” Dean said his voice deep and rough as he removed his own trousers and boxers, “missed you lying out for me like this.”  
He moved himself so he was straddling Castiel, pulling Castiel’s legs up to the side of his body. He feels the heat of Dean’s cock against his own as Dean leans in to kiss him again, and drags another long moan out of him. Dean pulls away, trailing kisses along Castiel’s neck, before sitting upright again.  
Castiel leans his head back against the pillow, moaning as he feels Dean’s spit-slick fingers begin to work inside of him. One finger, then two and three.  
“More.” Castiel breaths, pushing onto Dean harder.  
“You want more Cas? You want more of me?” Dean says, his voice a deep growl in the silence, “you want me inside you?”  
“Yes.” Castiel moaned the word catching at the back of throat.  
“I want to hear you say it, Cas. I want to hear you say that you want me.”  
“I want you inside me, Dean, I want you…” His words trailing off into a deep groan, as he feels the heat of Dean’s cock against his hole.  
Dean goes slowly at first, the stinging warmth of his cock in Castiel’s ass as he pushed further into him. Castiel moaned uncontrollably, shit, he missed this, bunching up the bed sheets in white-knuckled fists. Dean had hardly fucked him and he could already feel the warm curl of lust flow through him.  
“Dean...” Castiel breathed, “please, Dean.”  
He didn’t even know what he was pleading for; the words were falling out of his mouth now.  
Dean starts fucking him harder, his groans sending shivers up Castiel. His cock going deeper with each thrust, until Castiel felt him catch his prostate, and it was like electricity was passing through him, his hips bucked and oh fuck, his hands gripped tighter to the bed sheets. And the way Dean kept moaning Castiel’s name… Cas, oh, Cas.  
Castiel’s cock ached for release, ached for Dean’s hands or lips, ached to be touched. Every time Dean would catch his prostate the warm twisting ache in his crotch became almost unbearable.  
“Dean, please. I need... oh fuck…”  
“Shit,” Dean moaned, “fuck, Cas.”  
Dean’s hips rutted into Castiel, moving faster with each thrust, nearly catching the sweet spot every time. Castiel could feel the come rising up through his dick, and felt the small amounts of precome cover the head of his cock, panting and moaning and aching. Aching for the swell in his crotch to finally be relieved.  
Dean came quickly, the rhythm in his thrusts stopped and he grabbed Castiel’s thighs for support as he came inside of him. He groaned Castiel’s name in his release. He all but fell on Castiel as he revelled in the heights of his orgasm, leaning on his elbows, just over Castiel, his hot panting breath tingling the skin on Castiel’s chest. Dean felt the sweaty heat of Dean’s body on his cock, and that was nearly enough for him to come too but he held it, wanted to feel Dean’s lips against him.  
“Dean. Please.” Castiel was panting, so close to boiling over.  
Dean hummed in reply and Castiel felt warm lips trail down his body, from the centre of his chest, to his navel where they stopped a moment to suck the skin there, Dean’s chin scraping gently against the head of his cock as he did. Oh fuck.  
He moved further down and Castiel felt Dean’s tongue gently roll along his shaft, felt his mouth over the head licking the precome through the slit and it was all too much.  
Dean held the bottom of his cock and his other hand moved to his balls, and oh shit, it was just too much. Dean’s mouth started sucking the head of his dick, licking the head and along the prominent vein, sucking and licking, it was sloppy and messy but it was so good.  
“Fuck, Dean.” Castiel growled and his hands found Dean’s head, holding him though, fingers twisting through his hair.  
Castiel’s orgasm was like an eruption in him, his hips bucking as he came into Dean’s mouth.  
“Dean. Oh, fuck, Dean.” Was all he could say as the waves of orgasm crashed over him.  
Castiel lay with his eyes closed lightly, panting and moaning as he came over his high. And he felt lips on his own and he lazily kissed them in return.  
“Dean.” It was a murmur this time, he wondered if he had ever sounded so content before. He probably shouldn’t have done, no doubt in the morning all remnants of the night before would be wiped clean.  
“Cas.” Dean said in that humming tone, kiss-swollen lips gently, lazily rolling over his own. 

Dean slept in Castiel’s bed that night, arms and legs knotted together in an embrace that felt so much like the old Dean and Castiel wondered if he got that Dean back, but doubted it. He let himself enjoy it though, enjoyed the smell of Dean on his pillow, rather than smoke. His face nuzzled into the crook Dean’s neck. Enjoying Dean’s soft snores, enjoying how the filled the usual silence of his room.  
“I fucking love you, Dean.” Castiel whispered.  
He knew Dean couldn’t hear him, glad of that fact. He didn’t want Dean to hear. The love he felt for him, he knew, wasn’t returned on Dean’s behalf, not anymore. Not even a night slept with a man that seemed a lot like his Dean couldn’t convince him of that. Dean was cold now, and he had to remind himself of that. This wasn’t his Dean, no matter how much he acted like it. But, fuck, he still loved him so much.  
I should hate you. I should hate you. I should hate you. You took me away from my family, from Heaven, you made me fall, this is your fault. I should hate you. Why do I love you so much? Kept replaying at the back of Castiel’s mind, like a broken record. But that was the thing; he did love Dean, fucking adored Dean despite it all. He didn’t hate Dean, couldn’t hate Dean. He hated himself.

The night passed quickly, Castiel didn’t know when he fell asleep.  
But he was right.  
Dean was gone, all signs that he had even been there, gone. And he had to stop himself from lashing out, or crying, or tearing down his whole fucking shack. He had to refrain from shouting and screaming how much he fucking loved Dean and he had to refrain from going to find the fucking man and just cause him pain, as much physical pain as he could, just to try to replicate the fucking way he made Castiel feel.  
But he didn’t do those things. He could have, could have easily gone over and beaten Dean to a pulp for leaving again, for raising him up, making him feel loved and then just leaving. He could easily have shouted how he was just too scared to show how he really felt anymore, that he was just cold and stone and ugly.  
But he didn’t.  
Instead, he got changed. Pulled out a cigarette and lit it, sucking in the smoke, ridding the taste of Dean on his lips. He found the cocaine he stashed under the floorboards so no one could steal it, and got the bottle of whiskey out of the cupboard. Maybe this time, the drugs and the alcohol would actually kill him.  
Truth was, he would much rather cause himself the pain. He hated himself, hated himself for still loving Dean, even after all this, even though this happened on a regular basis.  
Maybe this time all the drugs, all the alcohol would finally kill him. He had nothing to live for anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure there are some grammatical errors in this, but it was originally a prompt from somebody who wanted a fic that contained a cigarette (which explains the title), and I wanted to get it done as quickly as possible for them.  
> Despite all its many faults, I hope you still enjoy it.


End file.
